


Too Slow

by blitzturtles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emetophobia, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitzturtles/pseuds/blitzturtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Jack just isn't fast enough. Fortunately, Gabriel doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Slow

Jack stumbles in through the doorway of his and Gabe's room. His hands are frantic as he tries desperately to disengage the mask. He can handle the pain, but the nausea is something else entirely. Under any other circumstances, and he wouldn't be near panic. The mission had taken longer than expected. And being tossed through the air like a rag doll certainly hadn't helped, but migraines like these come on hard and fast. There's never any warning. No aura. No malaise. 

Gabriel isn't far behind him, though Jack had all but darted away the moment they had returned to the Watchtower. The bile burns at his throat. His eyes are probably watering underneath the visor, but all he can think about is getting the damn mask off before it's too late.

His stomach gives a particularly violent spasm, causing him to crumble to his knees. All at once, he finds that he can't breathe. Attempting to inhale only makes his nose burn. His fingers claw pointlessly at the mask.

Gabriel doesn't even hesitate when he wipes at the vomit with his sleeve. His first thought-- first instinct-- is to make sure that Jack's airways are clear. He can handle the rest after.

Gabriel doesn't say anything as he patiently waits for Jack to catch his breath again. He smooths his hand up and down one of Jack's biceps while the other supports the trembling man. He knows that nothing he can say will make the situation better. Touch does more for Jack in these situations than anything Gabriel could ever tell him. No amount of 'it's okay' would make their current situation any more 'okay' in Jack's mind.

Once Jack seems steady enough to be moved, Gabriel helps him back to his feet. He guides him carefully to the bed, only speaking to Jack in order to tell him to close his eyes. He gently pushes Jack down on the mattress. With Jack situated, Gabriel focuses on removing the visor. The small gasp worries him. His thumb strokes absently at Jack's temple. To his relief, Jack leans into the touch.

Gabriel presses a soft kiss to the top of his head, mostly undisturbed by the sight or smell of the other man. His focus is mostly on cleaning him up and taking care of the mess. He disappears into the adjoining bathroom with promises to return.

The mask gets scooped up and deposited in the trash. Gabriel has every intention of destroying it later. The jaw piece and visor can both be easily cleaned, but the mask itself would be permeated with the smell of sick. No amount of cleaning solution would get rid of the scent. It's not worth the effort anyways.

He sticks his contaminated sleeve under the water for a moment to wash away what he can and rolls it up once he's done. He can deal with his own clothing after he gets Jack cleaned up.

Jack's hands are still shaking when Gabriel returns. At this rate, he looks like his stomach might go a second round if he's left to sit too much longer, so Gabriel takes the dampened washcloth he'd retrieved from the bathroom to wipe at Jack's nose and mouth. He folds it frequently. Even then, he still ends up going through a second one.

"Lie down, querido," Gabriel says, gently pushing his hand against Jack's shoulder.

Getting Jack out of all of his gear is a bit more time consuming. Gabriel has had years of practice, and he still struggles with some of the armor. Most of it gets dumped into a pile near the bed.

The rest of the clean up is easy enough. He wipes up the spot on the floor where the mask had landed originally and strips out of his own soiled hoodie. He's sore from the weight of the gear he wears, but he can't bring himself to care about that-- or anything else-- with Jack curled up in bed with one of the hellish migraines of his.

Gabriel wants nothing more than to get in bed and call it a day. Or a week. He could always tell Athena to let the others know they could all fuck themselves if they wanted Jack for any reason. He could also message Ana and have a personal sleep sniper posted outside the door. Maybe _that_ would keep the wild little shits that affectionately call Jack 'dad' away for the next twenty-four hours or so.

He settles on sending Ziegler a short text. The doctor can handle the rest. Possibly prepare something for Jack if the migraine keeps worsening. Gabriel would rather not go through the whole dehydration thing again. It's disturbing how something so simple can effectively wipe out a super soldier. Old or not.

Jack doesn't move when Gabriel leans over, putting his knee into the mattress behind the other's back. "Might sting," he warns softly while simultaneously pushing the needle in. They're both used to pain, but the trick is one he knows from helping patch people up in the field. Distractions are good, and you don't warn before something. Warning while doing something works well enough.

He holds the needle there for a moment longer before pulling it out. Gabriel recaps it and sets it on the nightstand. It's just another item to add to the growing list of things to properly dispose of at a later time.

With nothing else to do other than wait the worst of the migraine out, Gabriel crawls into bed behind Jack. He pulls Jack's back against his chest and brushes his fingers over the various scars on Jack's stomach. There's not much more he can do until the meds start working, assuming that they do. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes they make the nausea worse. At that point, the only thing that can be done is knocking Jack out. He'd rather hold off on that for as long as possible.

Gabriel hums softy with his nose pressed against Jack's neck. He swears he can almost feel the unease of the nausea building. It comes in waves. Building until Gabriel feels the way Jack's entire body tenses. He feels himself doing the same, preparing for the worst. _Should've grabbed a bucket._

His fingers move to Jack's hair. The soft hum at the back of his throat is near soundless, but it provides a distraction. This is all he can offer in moments like these. He hates not being able to do more. If he could, he would take the pain. The nausea. The misery. All of it.

"Shut up," Jack mutters under his breath, unwilling to risk saying much more.

Gabriel huffs in response. He bites back his usual retort. "Sorry," he whispers instead and kisses Jack's neck.

They both go quiet after that. Jack not quite sleeping, but the tension is slowly fading. The nausea seems to have eased, too, much to Gabriel's relief. He knows that none of that really means that the worst of it is over. All he really wants is for Jack to be able to sleep. Fortunately, he doesn't have to wait long for Jack's body to give into unconsciousness.


End file.
